When Everybody Has Airport Lounge Access, Nobody Does
It was only when my partner and I arrived at Orlando Airport in May that I realized my crucial error: I had forgotten to prebook the one lounge to which I had access. The Club MCO lounge was full, so we joined the queue to enter our names in the much-longer digital queue.
After 20 minutes of standing around, we gained entrance to what looked like a breakfast buffet at a budget hotel: beige walls, tired carpets and a small selection of food that looked far less appetizing than the options at Bahama Breeze, the wonderfully tacky, Caribbean-themed restaurant in the terminal. Sipping on a weak gin and tonic, and picking at a sad cup of gummy bears, I had to ask myself: Why exactly was I so desperate to be here?
There have never been more airport lounges. Yet there also have never seemed to be more lounges that are not worth the hassle. Many are forlorn. Many others are overcrowded; sometimes the lines for the lounges are the longest in the airport. Yet we all still fight to get in. Many of us will choose to fork over too much in credit card fees or commit to flying on one airline to gain entry to these spaces, because we still believe they offer a taste of luxury amid the stress of travel. In our iPhone age, we have been sold on the idea that travel is no longer just about the act itself, but about being seen to be traveling — and being seen to do so in style. Just don’t tell those sitting at Bahama Breeze that they’re probably having a better time.
A month after my sojourn at Orlando Airport, I would question my lounge loyalty again, this time after receiving an email alerting me that the annual fee for my Chase Sapphire Reserve card — a premium credit card favored by my fellow millennials, which comes with access to lounges around the world — was jumping from $550 to an eye-popping $795.
